


Like Father, Like Son (2)

by iamisaac



Series: Lacking Humanity/Like Father, Like Son/Humanity's Son [3]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 04:25:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5233994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamisaac/pseuds/iamisaac





	Like Father, Like Son (2)

The next morning, Draco left him at about 10am, giving curt instructions over his shoulder as he went.

“Don’t touch anything, understood? I won’t make any comment about going anywhere: you can’t, anyway; but I don’t want you on my bed, and I don’t want you touching my things. Oh, and…” He paused with his hand on the door handle. “Be a good boy.”

Harry glared blearily at the closed door, but was privately grateful for some time alone. Time to get used to things. Time to realise that he was alive just as long as he pleased Draco and to acknowledge that swearing at him was probably not his best approach. He stood up and walked towards the window, recoiling as he hit what appeared to be an invisible wall two feet from it. Pushing his hand forward, he hit the solid barrier again; then, moving towards the door, he found that the same applied there. That, no doubt, was what Draco had meant about him not being able to get out. He thumped hard on the obstruction in frustration, and got a shock when it apparently thumped him back, knocking him flying backwards. As he reached out instinctively to the bedside table to steady himself, he made a final bitter discovery.

Draco hadn’t lied about the wand.

The moment Harry’s fingers came in contact with it he found himself bound halfway up the wall, arms strung out to either side of his body. There was no chance of him moving without assistance, and as he looked down, he found that Draco hadn’t told him everything about the hex, either. He was naked. Fortunately it was warm enough in the room that he wasn’t going to freeze, but there was something particularly degrading about being tied up with no clothes.

It was three hours before Draco returned.

Three hours in which Harry had got progressively more uncomfortable, and then felt parts of his body fade into numbness. Three hours in which he had time to wonder if Draco would be the first person in, and whether Lucius would consider him to have broken the agreement enough to deserve to die if he were to enter the room right now. It was near the end of the third hour that Harry realised that he was now strung up against the very wall on which Draco had projected the images the night before, and found, to his utter shame, that he still found the idea erotic. And it was at that moment that Draco chose to return.

The door swung open, and Draco looked around. Thank God, was Harry’s immediate thought (not something he had ever thought he would associate with seeing Draco); followed quickly by Oh shit as he realised that his body was still reacting to his imaginings. The look that Draco gave him when he caught sight of him solved the second problem fairly quickly.

“Well, well,” murmured Draco, grey eyes glinting with amusement. “I thought I told you not to touch anything.”

“I slipped,” retorted Harry through gritted teeth. He considered explaining about the fight with the invisible wall, but decided it would make him sound like even more of an idiot than he already looked so he kept quiet.

Draco raised an eyebrow incredulously.

“Onto the wand? That was careless.”

“Malfoy, just get me down from here, okay?”

Draco’s smile grew as his eyes lingered on Harry. Harry would have liked to turn away, but the bonds were tight and beginning to chafe him badly.

“Oh, I’m quite enjoying having you up there,” Draco said quietly, consideringly.

“Oh, for God’s sake…!”

Harry shut his eyes. Until this moment, he hadn’t realised how much he had relied on Draco’s return to get him down from this position. Taking a deep breath, he tried once more.

“Draco - please?”

Harry knew the desperation was clear in his voice the moment he had spoken, and wanted to take it back, but the word hung there, in the air between them, as tangible as if it were a physical thing. And Draco’s eyes swept up to his face – he could feel it, even with his eyes closed – and paused there, arrested.

“You know, you’re learning, Potter,” he said; and Harry flushed, but he felt the bonds loosening even as Draco spoke, until he fell face first onto the floor, limbs too drained of circulation for him to use them to save himself.

He twitched, trying to rub the blood back into his wrists, and realising that his glasses were broken – again – in the fall. Draco bent down to him, and he heard his voice close to his ear.

“So tell me, Potter – who were you thinking of when I first came in?”

Harry lay still, frozen to the spot. He had thought – probably because he had wanted to think – that Draco hadn’t noticed. It had been bad enough once: if Draco knew that he was still getting off on the thought of him, he thought he’d die of humiliation. He said nothing.

“Perhaps I can guess.” Draco’s voice was harder now; cynical. 

Harry stopped breathing. No, please don’t. The words wouldn’t come, though he thought them loudly enough. He was aware that Draco was kneeling over him.

“I heard you last night, Potter, calling out his name in your sleep.”

What?!? Harry was baffled now.

“ ‘Sirius! Sirius’… He’s been dead two years, and you’re still lusting over my cousin. What is it: do you have a thing about being fucked by someone twice your age? Does it turn you on having dream-sex with a wraith?”

Harry gulped. Sirius. A vivid picture in the mind of his godfather falling through that veil, vibrant and alive to the last second. His dream last night – again. When Sirius had died, he’d wanted to die too – he’d loved him, though not in the sense that Draco meant it.

“Tell me, Potter – was Sirius Black so good?” demanded Draco.

Sirius, forgive me, Harry thought briefly, and lied.

“Yeah. Yeah, he was.”

He rubbed his wrists some more, wincing at the pain as the blood flowed back through them. 

“Of course,” said Draco cruelly, “everyone knew he was a twisted pervert, so it’s not surprising that he’d do his own under-age godson…”

Harry’s temper broke, and, forgetting the pain he was in, he flung himself at Draco, hands clawing at him.

“Don’t you fucking dare say those things about Sirius!”

But his body was still suffering from the fight against Voldemort; and being bound to a wall for three hours had only exacerbated his wounds. Draco had him pinned beneath him within seconds.

“My God,” he whispered. “He must have been good to extract such a reaction from you.”

Harry was horribly aware again that he was naked. Draco’s attention, too, seemed suddenly drawn to it again, and he removed one of his hands from Harry’s neck, and stroked it over his body. Furiously angry, Harry found that despite everything, Draco’s touch had the power to arouse. Draco laughed, harshly.

“I can see he taught you well, didn’t he? Did he teach you everything you know?”

Harry hated Draco for that; wanted to kill him, but somehow that wasn’t quite relevant now – not when Draco’s hands were bringing him so far, when his breath caught and shuddered in his chest and his hips twisted and bucked, desperate for completion.

“Did he, Potter?” insisted Draco, hands still caressing; and Harry no longer knew what he asked.

“Yes, yes…” he muttered feverishly, thoughtlessly, his mind focussed only on his body and what Draco was doing to it. And then he came, and Draco stopped touching him and, standing, looked down on his sweat-drenched body with contempt.

“It’s just as I said, Potter; you’re a whore who’d come for anyone,” he said derisively; and left the room once more.


End file.
